She Walks in Beauty
by piccolina789
Summary: "If this is what I get for being impossible, maybe I should try it a little more often." A little GSR for a mid-week pick-me-up.


_**A/N: **_**I don't know where this came from, or what is is, but the words came out tonight, and I hope you enjoy it!**

**Once again, I wrote this late at night (in place of homework...) so I apologize for any errors! If I see any, I'll fix 'em :)**

* * *

"Night, Nick!"

Sara poked her head into the AV lab where Nick was sitting next to Archie.

"Night, darlin'," he called back. "See you tomorrow."

Sara waved at Archie before turning and making her way back out the hallway, where Greg was approaching.

"Going home?"

"Night off," Sara grinned.

"Hot date?" Greg winked at her.

"You know it."

Greg's smirk stretched into a smile.

"Night, Sara."

Humming to herself, Sara jingled her car keys between her fingers on her way to the parking lot. Pulling out onto the street, she briefly noticed a car pulling out behind her, following her to the stoplight. She flicked between radio stations, trying to find a happy medium between the country station and the heavy metal station both Nick and Greg had taken the liberty to program into her presets. Settling on a soft rock, she turned corner after corner, on the way to her small apartment.

As she pulled onto her street, her eyes darted to her rearview mirror. The blue car with no headlights was still behind her. She pulled into her allotted parking spot in the apartment complex, and the blue car pulled in right next to hers, occupying the spot belonging to old Mrs. Grady from 4B. Sara snatched her bag from the passenger's seat and slid out from the car, keys between her fingers.

The man behind the wheel of the blue car exited as well. He quickened his pace to meet up with Sara before she reached her front door, reaching his hands to grab her shoulders, whipping her around. They were almost nose-to-nose.

"You forgot to put your headlights on."

Grissom nuzzled her cheek.

"I was distracted by the alluring brunette in the car in front of me."

Sara giggled, pulling away from the scratches of his beard.

"I'll be right back."

Grissom smiled as she went, watching her disappear into the apartment before heading back to his car. He turned the radio to the soft rock station he knew Sara would have put on, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he waited for her to collect the few things she had yet to buy double of. A purple toothbrush, unscented container of deodorant and green razor had taken up permanent residence on his bathroom counter, but she always forgot to buy a second bottle of shampoo and a hairbrush. So, to prevent her hair from both smelling and looking like Grissom's unruly curls, she had run home to get them, along with a change of clothes.

She emerged from the apartment minutes later, a mesh bag slung over her shoulder. He watched as she locked the front door and made her way to his car.

"You know, this isn't a very practical arrangement we've got going on," she said as she slid into the passenger seat.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't have to follow me home to pick me up," Sara explained. "I can just swing by here after work and drive myself."

"And if someone sees your car at my place?"

Sara turned to face him, quirking her eyebrow.

"You're getting really technical here."

"Honey, we work with criminal investigators," Grissom pointed out. "Most of whom have either seen or been in your car. What do _you_ think they'd say if they saw it parked outside the townhouse?"

"Good point," Sara sighed.

A brief silence hung between them.

"Honey," Grissom said as he reached across the console for Sara's hand. "You know I'd love for you to move in. It's just…"

"I know."

He glanced over at her and saw she meant it. But she repeated it anyways, against his lips as she kissed him. He nearly ran the car off the road, the world stopped when Sara kissed him.

He pulled up to his townhouse, practically their townhouse now, and they approached the front door, hand in hand.

Once inside, Sara dropped her bag on the living room couch.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

"Tea?"

"Yes, please," Sara called back, already stripping off her t-shirt.

Grissom swallowed hard, resisting the urge to chase after her and remove the rest of her clothing, turning instead to the stove and lighting it under a large pot of water as he heard the water crank on from the bathroom.

Several minutes later, after Grissom had finished lighting the candles he still protested were unnecessary even though he liked them, he heard a sharp rap at the door. Eyebrows furrowing, he strode across the kitchen and living room, pressing his blue eye to the peephole to see who in the world was calling. An impatient-looking redhead stood on his stoop.

Grissom spun around, pressing his back against the door. He jumped into action, grabbing Sara's bag and tossing it on the bed on his way to the bathroom. He knocked hard on the wooden door.

"Sara!" he called. "Honey!"

No response. Another knock came from the front door. He cracked the bathroom door open, steam slipping out into the bedroom before dissipating.

"Sara."

She poked her head around the curtains.

"Catherine's here."

Her jaw nearly dropped.

"What?"

"Stay in here," Grissom instructed, already backing out. "And turn the water off."

Suds still in her hair, Sara moved fast to wash the last remaining foam from her hair before turning the shower's squeaky knobs, wrapping herself in a towel and pressing her ear against the door. She could just barely hear the muffled conversation from the foyer.

"Catherine," Grissom stumbled. "What… what are you doing here?"

Outside, Catherine raised and lowered a shoulder.

"I haven't stopped by in a while," she said. "Thought I'd come say hi before heading in. Your night off?"

"Yes."

"Are you… inviting me in?"

Grissom was silent, but Sara could picture him gesturing her in, reluctantly.

"Are you making tea?"

Catherine dropped her purse on the kitchen table, inches away from Sara's discarded shoes. Grissom kicked them behind the garbage can.

"Yes."

Catherine stopped short a few feet before the stove.

"Are those candles?"

She turned around and gave him a skeptical look, her eyebrows sky-high.

"Candles? In _your_ apartment?"

"Um… yes?"

"Someone's talkative tonight."

Catherine made her way back towards the kitchen and dropped into a chair. When he didn't respond, she stopped flicking through last week's forensic journal he had meant to recycle (yes, he recycled now, too) to glance up at him.

"What's wrong with you?"

"N-nothing."

"Uh huh."

Catherine's skeptical look continued.

"It's just… a bad time," Grissom tried.

Catherine nodded again.

"I can see you're entertaining company."

"I was reading," he attempted again. "You know how I get…"

"Caught up in your bugs," Catherine finished, sighing a little. "All right, I can take a hint."

She stood from the table, reaching for her purse.

"I'm sorry, Catherine."

"Hey, you don't have to apologize to me," she smiled. "I've gotten used to your anti-social tendencies by now."

Grissom pressed a small smile at her.

"Hey, before I go, can I use your restroom? Trying to drink more water, but it's going right through me."

Inside the bathroom, Sara froze. She reached for the door's lock and silently slid it over. Outside, Catherine was halfway across the living room before realization dawned over Grissom.

"No!"

Catherine turned to face him.

"Sorry?"

"It's, uh, it's broken," Grissom stammered. "I keep forgetting to call out the, uh, you know, the guy who fixes it."

"The plumber?" Catherine offered.

"Yeah. Just been busy, I guess."

Catherine couldn't help a smile from spreading on her face.

"And… what may I ask do you do when nature calls?"

"Hold it," Grissom answered, a hint of question in his voice.

"Hold it," Catherine repeated.

"Hold it till I get to the lab," he said with more confidence. "I'll fix it tomorrow."

The corners of Catherine's mouth tugged up.

"You do that."

He followed her to the door.

"Have a good night," he finished awkwardly.

"Yeah," Catherine said slowly. "You too."

Grissom let out a huge sigh of relief as the door snapped shut. He took a second with his back pressed against the door before striding to the bathroom. He heard the lock slide unlatched from the inside and he twisted the knob open. Sara stood there, wrapped in a towel, fog still clouding the mirror, and her hair still drenched but starting to curl. She bit her lip as she looked at him. After a second, they both burst out laughing.

Grissom joined her in the steamy bathroom, wrapping his arms around the warm, wet Sara.

"That was close," he said into her ear.

"Too close," she giggled.

He pulled away a little and gave her a cheeky smirk.

"Imagine what she would have said if your car had been in the drive."

Sara pursed her lips a little, shaking her head.

"I can't believe that all you can say from that was 'I told you so'," she said. "You…"

She paused to kiss the side of his mouth.

"Are."

She kissed the other side.

"Impossible."

She murmured it right on his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"If this is what I get for being impossible," he whispered as he tugged the blue towel from Sara's grasp. "I might try it a little more often."

He let his hands travel down her long, soft back. One hand landed on her hip, he intertwined the other with her fingers. Sara curled her other hand on his shoulder, laying her head next to it. They began to sway slowly, dancing to the silence of the night.

"So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smiles that win, the tints that glow," Grissom said softly, tracing Sara's jaw with his forefinger. "But tell of days in goodness spent, a mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent."

She beamed up at him.

"Lord Byron."

She reached up to kiss him deeply.

"You do that on purpose, don't you?" she asked when they broke inches apart.

"Do what?" he asked into her neck.

"The poems," she said. "You know they're my weak spot. Do you just, stock pile them for the right moment?"

"Poems are your weak spot?"

He flashed a dimpled grin.

She shook her head and whispered a single word as he pulled her by the hand to the bedroom.

"Impossible."

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**The poem is "She Walks in Beauty" by Lord Byron, hence the title. Thanks for reading!**


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